He's The One They Call Dr Feelgood
by sadtomato
Summary: Short outtakes from "Between Pleasure and Pain," in Carlisle's POV. What is he up to while Bella and Edward hog the spotlight in BP&P? Rated M.
1. Outtake from Chapter 6

**This story contains little short snippets of what's going on behind the scenes in Between Pleasure and Pain. If you haven't read that, most of these will not make sense for you. That story focuses on Bella and Edward's growing D/s relationship; Carlisle acts as their mentor and sometimes play partner. Here, you'll see little flashes of what's going on in Carlisle's life that correspond with chapters in BP&P.**

**This takes place right after Carlisle and Edward part ways at the hospital in chapter 5; Edward goes home to Bella for their night of fun, and this is what happens in Carlisle's life. **

**As always, I do not own Twilight. **

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The phone rings through the stereo speakers, startling me as always. I press a button on the steering wheel to answer, and announce my standard greeting, "Carlisle Cullen."

"Emmett Cullen," my brother barks, mocking my serious tone. "What's up, fucker?"

"Hi, Emmett," I sigh. "Just getting home from work." I pull into the garage, turn off my engine and pick up my Blackberry as the call switches over.

"This late? Jesus, I thought when you got to be an attending you wouldn't have to work twelve-hour days all the time," he says. I've always been close to my younger brother, but we're night and day when it comes to our careers: I throw myself into my work with gusto, and he lives to have fun.

"I'm working on a clinical trial. Anyway, it's not that late, it's not even seven o'clock yet," I argue. I open the door and step into my kitchen, pausing to inhale the clean, lemony scent that tells me the housekeeper was here today. I walk to the refrigerator to look for dinner as Emmett talks-he's telling me a story about a baseball game he watched-and I peruse my options. A can of Diet Coke and some leftover grilled chicken with rice seems to be the best option. I put the food in the microwave and watch it spin as Emmett details a particularly stellar eighth-inning home run.

"So anyway, the reason I called is to remind you about dinner on Saturday," he says. I open my mouth to respond but he quickly adds, "I know you're not the one who forgets shit, but Rosie wanted me to call anyway. You're still coming, right?"

"Of course. Six?" I respond, pulling the warm plate from the microwave. I move it to the counter and gather some silverware and a napkin; most nights I eat here, alone. It seems like a waste to set the table for just myself.

"Yeah, six, at Sazerac. I figured we might go down to that wine bar you like afterwards, hang out and have a drink or two?" I open my soda and take a sip, carefully planning what to say. I've explained to my brother repeatedly that I'm a dedicated bachelor and I like my life the way it is, but he insists upon seeing romantic possibilities for me where there are none.

"I'm afraid I have another engagement at nine, so I won't be able to 'hang out' this time," I tell him, waiting for the inevitable teasing.

"Ooooh shit, really? I thought you weren't seeing anyone?" Emmett says, sounding disappointed. That's odd; I'd expected some lewd speculation about my evening.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone. I'm just helping out a friend," I explain, simply, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"Cool, that's perfect. Listen, Rosie may or may not have invited someone else to dinner," he says, and I sigh heavily at the prospect of another pointless setup. "A date. For you," he clarifies.

"Emmett, I've told you before-"

"Right, that you don't need my help with chicks. I get it. This is a really good friend of Rose's, though, and she just went through a shitty divorce, so she needs a night out. Just be cool and act like a gentleman, okay?" I sigh again, loudly, letting Emmett know that I'm annoyed. I can certainly be civil to Rosalie's friend for one evening.

"Fine, but make sure Rosalie understands that she isn't to do this again," I tell him, cutting into my dinner.

"Uhh, bro, I think you misunderstand who the boss is around here," he admits. I chuckle, wondering once again if Rosalie isn't a Domme in disguise. "OK, I'm gonna let you go, game starts in five. See you Saturday?" he asks.

"Saturday," I answer. Emmett ends the call, and I set my Blackberry down on the counter. As I eat dinner, I run through Edward's plan for our next session in my mind-it's definitely something different. It's never easy for me to let someone else take control in my playroom, but I thoroughly enjoy watching Edward and Bella as they grow more comfortable in their roles.

I take a mental inventory of my playroom, making sure I have everything we'll need-I know there's plenty of rope, and a few sets of nipple clamps for them to try. My cock stirs at the thought of seeing Bella experience that particular pleasure for the first time-and I laugh as I wonder how Edward will react when I tell him he has to try them first.

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**Oh, Dr. Feelgood... how I love you.**


	2. Outtake from Chapter 8

**I don't own Twilight. This outtake takes place during chapter 8; this is what Carlisle is doing while Bella and Edward are arguing, brunching, and having kitchen table sex. **

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I close the last file and set it on top of the stack I've already reviewed. I need a break before I start to review my notes-it's nearly noon and I've been working non-stop since eight o'clock this morning. I stand up, stretch, and take my empty coffee cup to the kitchen.

Once the dishes are done, I walk through the house tidying things up. The door to the playroom stands open, the toys we used last night still lying in their places. It's a strange sight; usually I have my submissives clean my playroom.

I grab the flogger from the floor and run my fingers through the soft falls, remembering Bella's reaction to the toy. She clearly loved it; she arched her back and thrust her breasts forward, a silent plea for more. I was thoroughly surprised when Edward asked me to touch her, to make her come, but I had been dying to get my hands on her lithe little body since their first tentative visit to my home. She felt amazing; so wet, so soft, so responsive. I return the flogger to its place, nestled in a drawer next to a few similar implements.

The nipple clamps should be sanitized; I scoop up the discarded set from the floor and take them into the bathroom to rub them down with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. I have no doubt that Edward and Bella will be picking up some clamps of their own-she responded beautifully to them. My cock stirs at the memory of feeling her small, tight nipples between my fingers... between my lips.

I rub my growing erection through my jeans and return to the playroom to stow the clamps. The rope lies uncoiled on the bed, abandoned after I had hastily unwound it from Bella's body. I gather it slowly, winding it over my arm. The soft, delicate ropes had been good for her first experience, and I know she will want to be bound like that again. My dick is growing harder with each memory; Bella's flushed, trembling body after her intense orgasm... the fire in her eyes as she begged for more... the way she eagerly sucked Edward's cock while I palmed my own.

Of course I wondered if he'd ask her to suck me off as well, since he had alluded to that sort of participation in our awkward conversation this week. Watching them, though, I knew that they were sharing a rather intense moment-their eyes were locked, Edward's hands cupped her face gently, and he spoke words of possession and love as she took him into her mouth. It became difficult for me to watch-not because of the sex itself, but because of the burning emotion between them.

Although I find her incredibly attractive, I truly don't want Bella for myself. Anyone can see that she and Edward and meant to be together, and I have no desire to steal her away from him. I am starting to wonder, though, if I could ever do what they do. Have what they have-love-without giving up the fulfilling sex life I enjoy. I convinced myself long ago that I didn't need a relationship, didn't want a permanent lover, didn't need commitment. Watching Edward with Bella, though... seeing the way they respond to each other sexually, the bond they share... I'm curious if it could ever be that way for me.

Finished with the rope, I take just a moment to straighten the comforter on the bed before leaving the room. I take the rope down to the washing machine and drop it in, watching for a moment as the cycle begins. My BlackBerry chirps in the kitchen, and I make my way back to the table to check my email. Just one, from Emmett:

_Thanks for dinner last night, bro. Always good seeing you. I know you don't give a shit, but Esme really liked you. Let me know if you pull your head out of your ass and you want her number. _

_-Emmett_

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**Sidenote: I love Emmett. Hard. **


	3. Outtake from Chapter 9

**A/N: This happens on Saturday, during the same timeframe as the end of chapter 9. It's a good preface to Chapter 10, which is written completely in CPOV. **

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I hear my BlackBerry chirp in the bedroom just as I step out of the shower Saturday morning. I dry off quickly and rub the towel through my hair before hanging it neatly on the towel bar. Curious, I head into the bedroom to pick up my phone before I get dressed; I don't get a lot of text messages, so I assume it must be Emmett.

_"She needs to be punished."_

From Edward. I smirk, wondering what Bella's done to deserve a punishment from him. The most I've seen him do is correct her gently with a swat on the behind.

_"What happened?"_

I toss the phone on my bed, moving to my closet to pull on some jeans while I wait for a response. I promised to stop by Emmett's house today and help him paint his living room. "Rose wants marigold walls. What Rosie wants, Rosie gets!" he'd told me. The phone chirps again as I pull a worn polo shirt over my head. Over the years, I've learned that Emmett enjoys getting messy whenever possible; these are clothes I won't mind throwing out at the end of the day.

_"She came without permission. I warned her that if she did, I'd punish her at your place tonight."_

Hmmm. I think Edward's going to need some help with this. He's reluctant to hurt her and has kept the force to a minimum so far. I respond quickly, hoping to bolster his confidence.

_"That's fine. Now you have to follow through, Edward. Empty threats will only confuse her and chip away at the trust you've built."_

His answer is quick, and I can't help but wonder why he doesn't just call me. Maybe he doesn't want Bella to hear our conversation?

_"I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with changing the plan. We can work out the details tonight?" _

I grin, thinking of all the toys in my playroom we haven't even touched yet. I can show Edward how to punish her thoroughly and still leave her begging for his cock.

_"No worries, I have a few ideas. See you at 7."_

I slide my BlackBerry into my pocket and slip on some comfortable shoes before I head down to the garage. I send Emmett a quick text to see if he wants to me to pick up a coffee for him on my way there; I usually make a stop at Starbucks on Saturday mornings. He texts back, asking for a venti mocha (Emmett's usual); a tall skinny vanilla latte (undoubtedly for Rosalie); and a tall green tea. The tea strikes me as odd, but I assume he's recruited another friend to help us paint.

Edward texts me again while I'm waiting for the barista to craft Emmett and Rosalie's ridiculous beverages.

_"Oh, and by the way, she made herself a collar. It's pink. Don't laugh." _

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	4. Outtake from Chapter 11

**A/N: Hi y'all. This is the chapter 11 outtake, and it takes place Sunday morning (after Bella's punishment, while Edward's at the hospital and Bella's at home writing about her experience). **

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I tap my fingers on the desktop, planning my next move. I've finished the work I brought home from the hospital, tidied up the house, and paid some bills... and it's only one o'clock. I decide to watch the documentary that arrived in the mail yesterday, and scoop up the red Netflix envelope to take into the den.

The documentary is about the failing American education system. It's supposed to be excellent, but it doesn't hold my focus. I'm distracted by the painting that hangs above the television.

It's a painting done by an old man from a small town I'd visited in Italy. It captured the breathtaking view from the high cliffs of his village perfectly, and I had to have it. The artist spoke no English, and my Italian was poor, but we managed to negotiate successfully. He even poured me a glass of limoncello and toasted with me before I left. I chuckle to myself, thinking of the difficulty I'd had transporting the piece from Vernazza to Rome, then carrying it through the busy streets to find a place that would pack and ship it to the United States. I'd almost dropped it in front of a speeding Vespa when I stepped into the street without looking. Esme would love that story... I wonder if she's been to Rome?

I wonder if I should move the painting to the living room. Yes, it definitely deserves a more prominent place in my home. I stop the DVD and lift the painting from its hooks, tuck it under my arm and walk to the living room. I set the painting on the sofa and look for a better spot to hang it-maybe over the fireplace? I stand in the center of the room and examine my options, trying to envision the possibilities... but nothing seems quite right.

Perhaps the golden brown color of the walls is all wrong? And the furniture suddenly seems wrong, like it wouldn't fit with the blues and greens of my favorite work of art. Clearly, I need the professional guidance of an interior designer to make this work.

I pull my BlackBerry out of my pocket and tap out a text message to my brother, asking for Esme's phone number. She's a designer, and I've enjoyed the work she's done in Emmett and Rose's house, so I'm sure she'll do an excellent job here. A few seconds after I hit send, my phone starts to buzz with an incoming call.

"Carlisle Cullen," I answer with a sigh, prepared for my brother's teasing.

"You sly dog!" Emmett barks. "You need some design help, huh Carlisle? Feel like redoing your living room?"

"Yes, Emmett, exactly. Don't read anything else into this. I've been thinking about redecorating for a while," I lie, "and I like what Esme did with your place. She has exquisite taste," I explain.

"What's that? You wanna get a taste?" he asks, taunting me.

"Are you going to give me her number or not?" I counter, ignoring his childishness.

"Yeah, I'll text it to you. Just promise me you won't be a douche; she's really awesome, Carlisle, and you shouldn't fuck around with her. If you're gonna laugh and flirt and moon over her like you did yesterday, don't pretend this is all business," he says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. I didn't feel like I was flirting with her; we'd simply shared our respective stories and had a pleasant conversation.

"It is all business, Emmett," I respond. "Just because I was friendly with the woman doesn't mean I was flirting. And I certainly don't moon over anyone."

"Whatever, bro. Just be good to her, or I'll have to give you another ass kicking," he says, and I chuckle a little at his response. The last time Emmett and I fought he was eight years old; he's been threatening a repeat performance ever since.

"Right. Send me that number," I remind him. "Thanks, Emmett," I add, hanging up before he can respond. Flirting? Was I flirting? I'll have to watch my behavior more when I see her again, because I don't want to give her the wrong impression. I simply want her help with my living room. Of course, I wouldn't mind hearing more of her stories. And her laughter, I definitely want to hear more of that.

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**Have I mentioned that I love Emmett?**


	5. Outtake from Chapter 12

**A/N: This is a CPOV outtake from chapter 12... it takes place Monday afternoon, whilst Bella is working and Edward is jerking off.**

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"I welcome any feedback you care to offer, Chuck," I tell my colleague, showing him to the door of my office. "Thanks for taking a look at it."

He holds up the folder he's carrying with the proposal for my new clinical trial and promises to have it back to me by Friday. I close the door behind him and loosen my tie before returning to my desk. It's been a productive day so far; my proposal is ahead of schedule, I completed a successful, minimally invasive bypass this morning, and all of my paperwork is caught up. There's just one thing left on my agenda today.

I find the text message from Emmett with Esme's phone number and jot it down on my desk calendar. I stare at it for a while, planning what to say, exactly the right tone to use to ensure that she understands that the context of this phone call is all business.

Once I decide on a course of action, I dial her number and hold my breath as the Blackberry connects and her phone rings. When she doesn't answer, I start to hope for voicemail-then I can leave a quick, professional message and wait for her to call me.

"Hello?" she answers, immediately giggling and then coughing to try to cover her laughter.

"Hello, Esme, this is-"

"Carlisle! How are you? Rose said you'd be calling. You're thinking about redoing your living room, right?" she asks, taking over the conversation. I can hear squealing and shrieking in the background.

"Yes, exactly, I was wondering if-"

"I'd love to take a look at it for you, I can definitely give you some ideas. When are you free this week?" she says, and I hear the sound of papers shuffling on the other end of the phone. She's humming as she does... whatever it is that she's doing. I'm somewhat frustrated that the conversation is not going exactly as I planned, but I'm glad she's agreeing to work with me.

"Do you work in the evenings at all? I'm usually at the hospital until five or six," I offer, hoping she'll agree to meet with me after hours.

"Of course, I'm a freelancer, so I work all the time," she answers, squealing and stifling another giggle. I wonder what the hell she's doing that's making her laugh like that in the middle of the day? "I'll come by tomorrow around 6:30. I'll bring some dinner, do you like Thai food? I'm sure you do. Everyone likes Thai food. Text me your address, okay?" she asks. This is not what I planned-she's taking over and turning this into a date, and I know I have to stop this. I have to stop her now, or she's going to be at my house with Thai food, expecting conversation and... whatever people do on dates.

"Actually, I think-" I start to tell her, but I'm cut off again.

"Aaaaah!" she shrieks, and then her voice drops to a whisper. "Carlisle, I gotta go. We're having a little squirt gun battle in my office and I'm losing. I'll see you tomorrow-I'm looking forward to helping you," she says, before disconnecting the call.

I'm stunned and overwhelmed, bulldozed by her energy, baffled by her confidence. She's coming over tomorrow. With Thai food. For... a working dinner? A date? I have no idea. I take a deep breath to center myself, and lean back in my chair. I need to regain control of this situation. I'm still holding my Blackberry, tapping my finger against the screen, staring at it as though it might have an answer for me. What am I going to do about Esme?

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**Oh snap... what ARE you going to do about Esme, Dr. Feelgood?**


	6. Outtake from Chapter 14

**I don't own Twilight. This outtake takes place during chapter 14; it's from Carlisle and Esme's dinner, before they start talking about redecorating and Bella interrupts them. **

**This is Esme's POV.**

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I made a conscious effort to be on time tonight, but I'm still a few minutes late-I hope Carlisle doesn't mind. He's much too polite to say anything, but I can tell that any deviation from a plan tends to drive him crazy.

I'm right; when he opens the door, the frustration shows on his face, but I give him my best smile and hold up the bag of takeout in offering. When he smiles back, I can tell it's his real smile-the one I've only seen a few times... the one that makes my heart pump a little faster.

"Thanks for coming, Esme," he says, ever polite, ushering me into his house. He takes my bags, stores them in his living room, and leads me to the kitchen. The house screams bachelor to me-not the pizza-boxes-and-video-games kind of bachelor, though. Everything in the home looks well-planned, neat, and tidy, but there's not a lot of warmth here.

I make conversation, ask him about his day, and his answers are clipped and formal. He's doing it again... this thing he does where he tries to keep his distance. It frustrates me because I know he feels this too-this connection we have, this spark-but he keeps trying to shut it down. He sets the takeout bag on the counter and takes a deep breath.

"Where are the plates?" I ask, opening the most likely cabinet even as I ask. He opens his mouth to answer, but I've already found them. I give him time to calm down as I dish out the Pad Thai and Som Tam, and he gathers up silverware and sets the table. After we sit down and start eating, I draw him out, slowly and surely. I ask about his travels, his brother, his favorite books. As he talks about what he loves, his face brightens and he becomes animated, loose. He starts to have fun.

"What about you? Have you been to Paris, Esme?" he asks. I shiver because I love the way he says my name, drawing out the first syllable just a little too long. He's leaning forward now, twirling the stem of his wine glass between his thumb and his long, gorgeous fingers. My favorite part of a man is his hands, and Carlisle's are... exceptional. I'm distracted for a minute by fantasies of what those hands could do to me, and I don't answer until he clears his throat.

"Paris? Yes, I've been to Paris," I answer truthfully, staring at my nearly empty glass of wine. I leave out a few details though-that I went with my ex-husband, that we fought the whole time, that I came home early so I could move my things out of our house. I don't mind talking about my ex, but I don't want to ruin this moment Carlisle and I are having. "But I'd like to go again," I tell him, lifting my eyes to his. "There's so much more I want to do."

"I feel the same way," he says, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "So many things I'd like to do..." My breath hitches as his gaze travels from my eyes down to my lips, my neck, my breasts. I sit up a little straighter, watching him watch me, and resist the urge to jump up and down and stomp my feet in excitement.

"Like what?" I ask, trying to encourage him, hoping he'll make the next move. Hoping that he'll stand up and come closer to me, pull me up into his arms and kiss me. Hoping that he'll tell me how much he wants me and take me upstairs. Hoping that I'll find out if what I've heard about him is true.

But when his eyes snap back up to mine, it's like he's miles away, having distanced himself once again from the undeniable attraction between us. "I'd like to spend more time in the Louvre," he says, his gentle smile an apology for abandoning our flirty alternate conversation. For choosing the safer path. I don't mind, though, because I've seen enough of the real Carlisle tonight. Enough to know that he wants me like I want him. Enough to give me the courage to keep trying.

"So Carlisle," I ask, draining the last of my wine, "how about a tour?"

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**I flove Esme. :)**


	7. Outtake from Chapter 15

**I don't own Twilight. This takes place during Chapter 15... it's Carlisle saying goodbye to Bella and reflecting his early goodbye with Esme.**

**This is Carlisle's POV.**

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"Good. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help-that's what I'm here for, Bella," I tell her, hoping she takes the offer in the spirit that I intend it. "Just try to, uh, give me some notice next time," I remind her, holding the door open as she departs. She's the second woman I've ushered out of my home tonight. As I watch her sprint to her car and dive into the driver's seat, I think back to Esme's departure earlier in the evening.

"Bella, please wait for me in the kitchen," I ordered, my eyes flickering between Esme's face and Bella's retreating form. Once she disappeared into the kitchen, I focused on the woman before me. Her chin was held high, her shoulders back, and she looked like she was smiling-but she wasn't, not really. Not the relaxed, genuine smile I'd seen so much of earlier in the evening.

"I'd like to explain," I offered, in a much quieter voice, squeezing her elbow reassuringly. I frowned as she tugged her arm away so she could fidget with the buttons on her coat.

"No explanation necessary, Carlisle," she said, shaking her head sadly. She stumbled over her words and her bravado started to crumble as she apologized. "I apologize for... assuming... and for uh, being so forward." I felt myself react physically to the memories of our easy flirtation over dinner, of her grace and confidence as she all but propositioned me afterward.

"No, please," I begged. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I really enjoyed myself tonight, and Bella is just a friend. She's a little... dramatic," I told her, trying to keep my explanation truthful but vague. "I would very much like to spend more time with you," I said. Speaking the words made me realize how true they were; the idea of not seeing her, not flirting with her, never getting to kiss her... it made my heart sink.

She looked down at her fingernails for a moment before she responded quietly. "She's a friend?" she asked, one delicate eyebrow arched in question. I had to find a way to answer honestly; I couldn't say "Yes, Bella is a friend, but she's also a play partner, a student, a submissive who comes here for training with her husband/Master."

"Her husband works with me," I answered, leaving out the salacious details. Esme looked me up and down, appraising me; maybe she was looking for some physical sign that would indicate whether or not I was telling the truth.

"Alright," she said, her eyes softening a little as I got a peek at the return of her lovely, real smile. "I'll start looking for furniture, and you... you can call and invite me to dinner sometime." She turned to leave then, strolling casually through the driving rain to get to her BMW.

I knew at that moment that I'd have to let her in, regardless of the consequences. I'd have to tell her everything and hope she'd accept me, hope she'd still want me. When we first met, I dismissed the spark between us-and the possibility of anything more-because she doesn't seem to have a submissive bone in her body. Now that I've spent more time with her, though-now that I know exactly how she can make me feel-I know that it's worth the risk. She's worth the risk.

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**I heart Esme. I mean, come on. She's such a badass. Thanks for reading these little stories-within-a-story. :)**


	8. Outtake from Chapter 18

**Here's a bit of Carlisle and Edward's evening from chapter 18 in Carlisle's POV.**

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"Since I recommended the endoscopic approach in the first place, Dr. Bass let me harvest the vein. I think with more practice I could be... Carlisle?" Edward asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

"I'm listening," I tell him, motioning for him to go on. He takes a sip of his beer, leans back against the green plastic of the booth, and looks at me skeptically.

"It was cool, that's all. That he let me do the procedure. Anyway, what's new with you?" He raises an eyebrow. I issued the invitation for an after-work drink today, so he assumes I want to talk.

If I weren't so flustered, I probably would want to talk. To tell him everything that's happening with Esme: our sailing trip this weekend, dinner at my place on Tuesday (uninterrupted by a raging Bella this time), and my utter confusion at what exactly I'm supposed to do with this woman. This vibrant, adventurous, beautiful woman...

Instead, I deflect the conversation back to him.

"I wanted to ask you about something I mentioned on Saturday. We talked about setting up a playroom of your own? Like I said, I'm not trying to kick you out, but I think you're both ready. I think it would be good for you to have a separate space in your own home where you can play. I'll be glad to help you," I tell him. It feels a little disingenuous to not disclose my personal motives, but Edward seems receptive regardless.

Even though I'm not romantically involved with Edward and Bella-although I am certainly fond of them-I feel like I need to establish certain boundaries with them before I even consider becoming intimate with Esme. It's one thing to tell her that I watch them play, but it's another story if I'm participating. I still don't know how she'll react when I tell her about my lifestyle, but I know I'll have to tell her soon. I worry that this confession alone will push her away; I can only hope that she's willing to listen.

"We don't really have space, you know? We just have the one spare bedroom, and sometimes we have guests or whatever," Edward says, draining the last of his beer.

"That's not a problem," I tell him. "Before I bought the house I'm in now, my playroom was entirely convertible." The waitress passes by, and I ask for the check.

"Oh," Edward says, looking at his empty beer bottle. "You don't want to have one more?"

"No," I tell him, checking my watch. "I want to take you shopping."

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**This is the last of the BP&P outtakes. Future chapters will move forward from here. :)**


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